


El roce hace el cariño

by fereldandoglords



Series: Querencia [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, Falling In Love, Food, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Nudity, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, Regret, Sex, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldandoglords/pseuds/fereldandoglords
Summary: Boss reflects on love and relationships after a one-night stand with a past flame goes badly. Set during Saints Row 2, pre-Brotherhood arc.





	El roce hace el cariño

Celeste was really pushing it, grabbing food in Cecil Park’s Freckle Bitch’s. She knows this is Brotherhood territory. She actually even hoped that being in their territory would push their leader to make contact sooner. She knew Carlos was working on the Brotherhood, but he was making slow progress. But right now, that didn’t matter. Right now, all she really wants is a sloppy, greasy burger, and there’s no better place for that than Freckle Bitch’s. 

While she’s in line to order, she spots her lieutenant Carlos. He is sporting his signature purple beanie and he is on the phone, talking rapidly in Spanish. 

She waves him over and he waves back. He quickly finishes the call, closes his phone and joins her. He greets her and they continue their conversation in Spanish. She misses speaking it on a regular basis (her uncle’s condition has been worsening lately, so conversations were usually cut short).

“Hey, Boss,” he says, chipper. “How ya doin’?”

“Hey, man. You OK?”

“Been workin’ hard,” Carlos pats his pocket, to indicate the phone call he had just finished. “I might have some news soon.”

Celeste sighs. The kid had a lot of spirit, and she heard some of the newest recruits whispering about how she seemed to give Carlos more chances to prove himself than she gave others. They were right -- she did have a soft spot for him. He might not be great at getting information, but he was very enthusiastic. She remembers how it felt being a new member of the Saints and how intimidating it was, after all. 

“Alright, Carlos. Let me know,” Celeste says.

Carlos nods, waving her goodbye as he leaves.

She looks at the cashier about to take her order and finds herself locking eyes with Cassidy, the girl she was seeing before the whole “getting blown up and put in a coma” fiasco. It had been so long, maybe Cassidy didn't even remember...

Celeste sighs and hopes for the best. Her day is either going to get better or a hell of a lot worse.

She decides to act natural.

“Sup, Cass,” Celeste nods. “Been a long time. Can I get The Twins?”

**

Two hours later, Celeste has her head buried between Cassidy’s legs. She hears the other woman’s cries of pleasure and feels her hands on her head.

“Oh, fuck,” Cassidy hisses, as Celeste picks up the pace. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’, I’m…” 

She cries out one last time, bucking her hips. Celeste finishes with one vigorous flick of her tongue, while Cassidy pants, trying to catch her breath.

Celeste moves up on the single bed and attempts to lie down next to Cassidy, but it’s an impossible task. She instead gets up. 

“Mind if I smoke?” Celeste asks, her voice hoarse.

“Window,” Cassidy replies. Celeste almost forgot about the “no smoking inside the apartment” rule. The smoke would still get inside because of the current summer breeze, but whatever.

Not even bothering to put her top back on, Celeste swings her legs over Cassidy’s window and her feet make contact with the warm roof. The cool summer air feels nice on her skin, especially after all that workout. She lights a cigarette and contently hums. 

Cassidy’s phone vibrates. Celeste hears the click of the phone opening, and then Cassidy fussing in bed. 

“Fuck,” Cassidy exclaims. 

“What?” Celeste asks, turning around, making an extra effort to make sure the hand holding the cigarette is still outside the window. 

“Look, you were gone a long time,” Cassidy started, putting her shirt back on, “you might as well have been dead, for all I knew. I know you were into some shady shit.”

Celeste always tried to keep the Saints separate from whoever she was seeing at the time. Cassidy knew only what she had to know.

“I'm... seeing someone,” Cassidy says, still not looking at Celeste. She waits for a reply, but Celeste says nothing. She simply puts out her cigarette on the roof, swings her legs back inside the room and gets up.

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Celeste snarls, grabbing her pants from the floor and putting them on.

Cassidy opens her mouth to talk, but Celeste continues talking.

“I don’t give a shit if you’re seeing someone after I was gone for five fucking years. Who the fuck am I to expect you to wait,” she says, grabbing her top and putting it on. 

Cassidy has the decency to remain silent, her head low. 

Celeste lets out a mirthless laugh.

“No, I don’t give a shit about any of that. What I cannot fucking believe is that you’re doing this shit again,” Celeste gestures at her, while hastily putting her shoes on. “Fucking me, when you’re seeing someone else. You didn't learn shit after all these years.”

Cassidy finally looks at Celeste. 

“What do you even care? You never even fucking loved me,” Cassidy says, suddenly defiant, as Celeste grabs her jacket and opens the bedroom door.

Celeste turns around to face Cassidy, scowling. She wasn’t going to let this mess escalate any further than it already had. Cassidy was no longer her problem to deal with. 

“Fuck you, Cass,” she spits out, closing the door behind her. 

**

 _Gotta say, that’s the first time I regret going to a Freckle Bitch’s_ , Celeste thinks, as she’s parking her car in the hideout’s garage. She cannot wait to go to bed and put the day’s events behind her. 

Cassidy’s words ring in her head, as if mocking her. _You never even fucking loved me._

_The fucking nerve. She’s the one who’s screwing over yet another girlfriend of hers, and I’m the one who ends up feeling bad? Bitch._

She can’t quite figure out why the words bothered her so much at first, but then it hits her. _It’s true, isn’t it?_

She tries to put things into perspective, trying to remember past relationships. There were a bunch of flings. In fact, there were way too many to count. She doesn’t even remember most of their names by now, to be fair. Slowly, she puts a list together in her head of actual relationships, people she has actually dated.

_There was Gabriel. There was Kristen. And then there was Rhonda, Michael, Michelle… and finally, Cassidy._

Celeste thinks about them as she’s pressing the switch for the elevator. Their personalities, the way she felt about them. The good and the bad. And she realises, maybe for the first time ever, that she never loved any of these people romantically. She cared for them, sure, but there are no lingering feelings of hurt, no aching in her chest over having lost something she will never get back.

The elevator dings, and the door slides open, her room now in view. The bed is unmade and the TV is on. She smiles - - the room smells like faintly of that fancy cologne Johnny always wears. He had to be the culprit of leaving the TV on. Her other two friends who have been known to use her room in the past are Pierce and Shaundi, but Pierce didn't make a habit out of it, while Shaundi preferred to nap downstairs. 

Her thoughts drift back to Cassidy’s words. She knows there were a hundred different ways she could have handled tonight. She could have asked if Cassidy was seeing someone before she moved in to kiss her and even before it escalated to sex. She could not have told Cassidy to fuck off. She could have been honest about what happened to her and why she was gone. But she didn’t. Her famously difficult temper got the better of her, again. 

It has always been easier to attack and deflect, rather than deal with her own shit. She knows this by now. And yet…

_God, I’m such a fucking cliché. I don’t even have a good excuse for not letting others close or whatever. Mother and Father might not have been there for me, but Uncle was. I am loved. I was cared for, and I still am. I have my friends -- I have Johnny, Aisha, Pierce, Shaundi, Carlos._

Even taking Cassidy out of the equation, she had been with some good people, some of whom she even remembers fondly. But none of them she can say she loved. 

These thoughts keep taunting her, and she groans in frustration. She throws herself on the bed, clothes still on. 

Celeste gets a good whiff of Johnny’s cologne again as she takes a deep breath and moves her face against her pillow. The familiar smell comforts her and she finds herself relaxing, her lids growing heavy. She smiles.

The last thought on her mind before sleep takes her is about Johnny and their plans to drive to the beach later that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Title roughly translates to "care/love grows from constant contact". Refers to the way love sometimes grows from spending time with one another.


End file.
